Last Regret
by ShinigamiPhoenix
Summary: DEATHFIC! Harry finds Draco dying on a battlefield and discovers that the blonde has one last regret.


Notes: This is a DEATHFIC! DRACO DIES IN THIS!! Don't flame me because you ignored my warning and didn't like that I killed Draco.

Last Regret

Bodies littered the ground like broken dolls, stained with blood and dirt. Pitiful moans echoed in the air, desperate pleas for help. The ground was muddy from the rain, and scarred from the passage of curses, deep gashes seared into the earth. Shadowy figures moved silently across the battlefield, giving aid and comfort to their friends, and final peace to their enemies.

Harry Potter, tired and bloody, wandered amongst the corpses, looking around with dull eyes at the devastation and complete disregard for the preciousness of life. By rights he shouldn't have been there-he's used too much magic during the battle to be of much good to anyone, but he'd made a promise to himself that he would never forget how terrible war was, to never turn his back on the brutal reality of it all.

It was only by a weird twist of fate that he found a Death Eater still clinging desperately to life. It was only the Gods being sadistic that the Death Eater was Draco Malfoy. His mask lay beside him, half hidden by the shadows and mud. His pale blonde hair was matted and tangled, thin strands falling over his eyes.

Harry looked down at him, trying to figure out how he felt about seeing his childhood rival's last moments, but he was too detached, too numb, to feel much of anything. he thought about leaving, but it seemed wrong to leave Draco to die alone, so instead he just sat down next to him. After a moment, he reached out and brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes, his fingers coming away stained with blood from a small cut on his forehead.

"Going to-to kill me?" Draco asked, his voice ragged and harsh. He coughed, his entire body shaking with it, and blood splattered onto his chin.

"No," Harry said quietly, not entirely sure what he was going to do, why he wasn't just walking away.

"It was-a good battle."

"I guess." It was probably only his morbid curiosity that made Harry wonder just what was killing Draco, and his eyes began searching the Slytherin for any fatal wounds. Draco apparently realised what Harry was looking for and managed to pull his robes aside, revealing the deep gash in his side, blood trickling from it in steady rivulets of crimson, made blacker by the night. Harry bit his lip as he looked at it, struck by the inexplicable urge to offer help.

"My healing skills aren't too good," he began haltingly, "I doubt I could do much more than numb the pain, but…"

"No. It's… okay."

The say in silence for a few moments, Draco's body-wracking coughs becoming more and more frequent. Harry knew he didn't have long left, a few minutes if he was lucky. The air grew colder, a bitter winter wind drifting across the battlefield. Harry shivered and huddled inside his warm robes and cloak. He noticed that Draco was only wearing his thin Death Eater robes and it was the quick work of a moment to steal some more robes off a corpse to drape over him. A few months ago, it would have struck him as morbid to steal from a dead man; now he just thought it practical.

"T-Thanks," Malfoy gasped, a grimace of pain contorting his features.

"I could get a healer," Harry offered quietly. "I'm not sure they'd like it, but I think I could convince them to help you."

"Don-don't bother. I'm r-ready to die."

"For Him?" Harry asked, having heard countless Death Eaters pronounce their willingness to die for their Lord.

"No. I just… I'm ready to go." Draco coughed again, more droplets of blood dripping onto his chin and cheek.

"You don't have any regrets?" Harry asked, using the corner of his cloak to wipe some of the blood of Draco's face.

Draco was silent for a moment, save for his ragged breathing, and then looked up at Harry with what might have been a little smile. "Just one."

"Oh?"

"I've never…" A bout of coughing interrupted his words, and he struggled to get his breathing under control again. "Never kissed anyone," he finished, looking away from Harry's piercing green eyes and up at the sky.

"But-your… late-night activities are almost legend at Hogwarts," Harry protested, and Draco chuckled weakly.

"Just sex," he muttered, his voice thin and weak. "Didn't kiss. Too in-inti-intimate."

He was fading, Harry realised, his strength was failing and he was about to die. He thought about that and realised that he didn't want Draco to die with any regrets. It was strange, he shouldn't have given a damn about any Death Eater's last regrets, but… but this wasn't just any Death Eater, this was Draco. This was his old rival, the boy who he'd competed against throughout his entire time at school. In a twisted, rather dark way, Draco was as close to Harry as his friends. Or maybe it was that they were roughly the same age, and Harry had only ever seen older people die. Maybe it was just that he'd want someone to give a damn about his last regrets if, when, he died.

Whatever his reasons, Harry carefully cleaned the rest of the blood from Draco's face and leaned down. He read the shock in Draco's pale grey eyes, but then his own eyes were drifting closed, and his lips brushed against the Slytherin's.

It was not one of the most passionate kisses in history, nor one of the longest, but it was filled with a tenderness, a companionship, that made it very special. Harry poured everything he had into that kiss, all his warmth, his hope, his beliefs, even his fear, he gave it all to Draco.

Draco was the first to pull away, a neat trick seeing as he was lying flat on his back, and whispered two words against Harry's lips; "Thank you…"

When Harry drew away, he saw that the last flickers of light, of life, had gone from Draco's eyes. Knowing the answer but doing it anyway, he checked for a pulse and found none. Moving slowly, almost as if he were afraid of waking Draco, he sat back and studied the blonde, though what he thought he would not be able to remember. He didn't know how long he sat there, looking at Draco and thinking unknown thoughts, but he didn't want to move, couldn't summon the will to do anything other than look.

Eventually, a healer found him and took him away, wondering silently what the Boy Who Lived had been doing with a fallen Death Eater. She didn't realise that it had just been Harry, looking at the body of someone who might have been a friend, had they met under different circumstances.


End file.
